WTNV Drabbles
by PsychoWing
Summary: Ellakey requested ficlet prompts on tumblr. With some goading, she got ficlet prompts. She wrote ficlet prompts. I repost them here for you to read.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Carlos, Cecil, Welcome to Night Vale, and anything else you recognize belong to Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor.

**NOTE:** I am not the author of this fic. My friend, Ellakey, is. I'm just posting it for her.

* * *

It was Cecil's turn to cook, and Carlos was comfortably spread out on Cecil's threadbare sofa, reading through some of his day's observations. When it hit six o'clock though, he straightened, looking to hide the remote.

"Carlos, can you turn on the TV?" Cecil turned, his hands powdery from gluten-free flour, a piece of raw chicken clutched between them.

Carlos pretended to look for the remote, tucked away in his lab coat pocket, before shaking his head. "I can't find the remote Cecil. Oh well, I guess we can't - "

"Oh you're being silly; just press the power button on the actual television," Cecil argued with a fond, if exasperated, look at his boyfriend. He turned to set the chicken down and pick up the other breast.

Carlos said and obliged, wincing as Steve Carlsberg appeared on screen. "Today, our esteemed radio host mentioned the invisible clock tower during traffic today. Might I remind our small burg that invisibility is something that mankind has not quite mastered, and thus it is impossible for the clock tower to be invisible. Besides, when have we ever heard it ring?"

Cecil turned with a frown, squeezing the other piece of chicken tightly. "Steve," he growled under his breath, slowly growing livid as Steve continued to dismiss or contradict every point he had made earlier during his show. Carlos sighed, glad he already had Cecil's phone hidden too.

"Carlos, where's my phone?" Yep, of course. This happened every night they spent at home, without fail.

"I don't know Cecil. I haven't seen it." He looked down at his folder, hoping that was the end of it.

Cecil was pouting though. "You've hidden it again, haven't you?"

"No, of course not."

"Carlos." Carlos looked up in time to see Cecil putting down the food and approach him. He stood up.

"Cecil, don't you dare. You were touching raw chicken just now. What if I got sick?" He started edging around the couch, trying to escape. Cecil didn't let him, nearly jumping on him to attack. "Cecil!"

"Give me my phone; Steve Carlsberg is an idiot and needs to be told so!" He started searching one pocket and found the remote.

"Cecil, you are a grown adult; you really need to act like it." The combined weight and Carlos's unstable footing soon had them both on the floor, but Cecil just sat on Carlos's chest as he called Steve to chew him out. Carlos sighed, letting his head thump on the floor again. One day maybe they could have a peaceful dinner at home.


	2. Chapter 2

Dana started her mornings the same way as always – battling the weird coffee urchin out of the coffee maker so she could refill the beans. It was impossible to convince it that she would pour the old grounds into its basket under the table, so she just got used to the little stings every morning, until Cecil got her a pair of gloves.

With the coffee stewing, she'd go to Cecil's soundbooth and straighten up, picking up the leftover cockroaches and notes and setting them neatly in the trash bin before braving Station Management for the day's broadcast notes. They were usually written in runes; she would go to Josie for translation help.

Cecil usually got in around eleven, and he liked his coffee black, which always made Dana blanch when she saw him drinking it. They would chat, make sure there wasn't anything lurking in the corners of the sound booth, greet other interns and workers when they arrived – the usual.

The broadcast started at noon, and Dana would spend the time either helping Cecil with his news or otherwise entertaining him. Or, more usual, taking his phone away when he tried to text that poor scientist he was infatuated with while on the air.

The broadcast ended around sunset, and by the end of the day she could've been burned, tackled, squeezed, or someone saved her from Cecil's bone crushing hugs. She'd make sure the coffee urchin was comfortable in its nest before locking up for the night.

How did she make it through the day? A well-charged cellphone and equally charged taser.


	3. Chapter 3

"This isn't safe Cecil. The radiation levels are disturbingly high." Carlos was tense on the patient old mare he was riding, who didn't seem to care if he was squeezing her ribs as tight as he could with his legs, back ramrod straight and knuckles pale from gripping the reins so tight. Cecil looked back, far more relaxed on his own steed, a massive beast that may not be entirely horse.

"It's fine Carlos. I played here all the time as a kid." He urged his horse to go down further the somewhat glowing trail (it was easier to see the glowing at night).

"That would explain so much," Carlos grumbled under his breath, nearly falling as his mare started after her companion. "Cecil, please slow down! I'm going to fall!"

"You aren't going to fall. Trust Dollops. She's a good old lady, aren't you girl." Cecil twisted in his saddle, smiling at the bay. The mare's ears pricked at her name and she moved a bit more quickly. Carlos quickly panicked and tried to correct his posture to compensate for the change in pace – but he fell off instead, rolling easily off the saddle and getting his foot caught in the stirrup. Dollops stopped, looking back at him with infinite patience.

Cecil, however, was laughing, pressing his face in his horse's mane in order to muffle the sound.

Carlos rode with Cecil holding onto his reins the rest of the way down, pouting the entire time.


	4. Chapter 4

Carlos enjoyed sharing a bed with Cecil. The one that in his pre-furnished apartment was an awkward size – too big for a single person, not quite big enough for two. He hadn't gotten blinds or curtains yet either and had taken to tacking a thin old sheet he'd found (a gift from his faceless old woman perhaps?) over the solitary window, over Cecil's protests that the Sherriff's Secret Police couldn't see in anymore.

They were cuddling, half asleep, partially drunk from some cheap as heck wine Carlos had found at the store to celebrate three months of them being together and alive. Carlos enjoyed tucking up close to Cecil and watching as his tattoos lazily swirled about, bright against dark skin. He yawned, not even bothering to stifle it, interrupting Cecil's commentary on Christmas traditions like hanging the tree from the ceiling and setting it on fire.

Well, Carlos was pretty sure he was talking about Christmas anyway.

It was hard to breathe with his nose and mouth pressed against Cecil's chest and the radio host's arm over his head, so he started to wriggle out of Cecil's grip, making the other sleepy man mumble something in protest. Carlos kissed him, deciding his bladder needed to be less full, and stood, stretching and yawning in front of the window. And then he froze.

There was a man – at least he thought it was a man – staring through the crack between the sheet and the window. While Carlos just stared at him, the man slowly gave him a thumb's up and backed away, disappearing into the shadows. Carlos stared awhile longer before forgetting his need to piss and crawling back into bed with Cecil.

He'd get blinds in the morning.


	5. Chapter 5

Carlos was out taking soil samples by RadonCanyon when he noticed a rather unusual sight. Growing near the lip of the canyon was a small field of clumps of lavender flowers. He tucked his samples away in his case, leaving it further away from the edge just in case, and walked over to inspect the flowers. They looked sort of like daisies, he thought and smiled, squatting to collect a small handful. He could put them in ice water at the lab to keep them fresh, he thought to himself, once he had enough and was headed back.

Later that night, he put them in a small vase on the table as he waited for Cecil to arrive. It was his turn to cook and he soon eggplant parmesan waiting for them both. Cecil let himself in without knocking, making the scientist jump.

"Sorry I'm late. Laura got sucked into a bottomless void today, so I had to interview a new intern." Cecil draped his coat over the sofa and went to Carlos for a hug, only to get lightly smacked with a (clean) spatula.

"No hugs while I'm cooking. You'll distract me and I'll burn everything again." Cecil pouted but obeyed, sitting at the small rickety table and eyeing the flowers. Carlos glanced back at him and smiled. "I found those and thought of you. Do you like them?"

"Oh, of course I do!" He picked up the vase and made to sniff them, making Carlos laugh. He finished dinner and set everything out before they ate.

Neither of them really noticed until the next day that Cecil had an allergic reaction. His voice was almost gone, and no amount of apologies would bring it back. It did give Cecil an excuse to do something he always wanted though, and Carlos found himself in Cecil's sound booth, staring blankly at his boyfriend as the headphones were fixed over his own head and the microphone to him.

'I can't do this,' Carlos mouthed, but got a kiss for his trouble. The On Air sign flickered on, and he sighed. "Hello Night Vale. Carlos here. Apparently Cecil is allergic to flowers…"


	6. Chapter 6

Carlos didn't realize just how scarce Valentine's Day cards and gifts were in Night Vale, and he reluctantly made the trip out of town to try and at least find something. He did eventually find a Hallmark store and spent a good hour perusing the aisles, debating between the sentimental and the silly. Unable to decide, he picked out two cards, one that was all flowers and hearts, the other actually having an anatomical heart on the front and simply "Be Mine" inside. It made him smile at least.

He ended up picking that card over the other one with some help from one of his fellow scientists. Adding a chocolate heart taped to the inside of the card (the absurdity of it wasn't totally lost on him) he put it in an envelope and decided to mail it to the station and listen to Cecil's reaction on the air.

"Listeners, it appears I have gotten some mail today, and it's from Carlos. Oh happy day, let's see what it i-oh. Oh no. Vivia! Help me, I have a…Valentine's Day card. Carlos, why did you send this to me, and there's chocolate inside." There were audible ripping noises over the little radio Carlos kept in the lab. The scientists all stared at the contraption in stunned silence, waiting for Cecil to start talking. When his voice returned, it was breathless.

"L-ladies and gentlemen, it appears that I have survived. I can only hope that it was in Carlos's ignorance that he sent me this card. Let me take you to this…p-pre-recorded sponsor."


	7. Chapter 7

Carlos woke and he started to get up, thinking automatically about what he needed to do at the lab and how much longer until he needed a new script for his shots. He had to take one today too…a heavy arm across his shoulders and that thought stopped him. He only took shots on Sundays, and he didn't work on Sundays. Trish went in to take care of the experiments that needed more attention. And Cecil was sharing his bed.

Carlos settled back into bed, too awake to even think about sleep, staring at the ceiling for a bit like his fan could tell him secrets to the world. It couldn't of course, and he got tired of "trapping" a blade by watching it move, so he finally rolled over, facing Cecil.

The dork had fallen asleep with his glasses on again. He smiled, tugging the metal frames away to set aside, running his fingers lightly over the marks left behind. Cecil grumbled and shifted, rolling away and stealing most of the covers until he looked a bit like a burrito. Carlos laughed softly, following the movement to lightly kiss Cecil, waking him.

"Mm…Carlos?" Cecil blinked a bit, trying to focus. "What's wrong?"

Carlos answered by laying on top of him, arms and legs wrapped about in an awkward almost hug. It sort of hurt as Cecil's elbow was digging into his ribcage and, yes, he was still sore from wearing his binder yesterday. He should've known better than to wear it for as long as he had. He shifted, so the offending joint was in his stomach instead, face level with Cecil's hair.

"Carlos, you're heavy. It's too early for this," Cecil whined, attempting to dislodge his boyfriend and only managing to make him grip tighter. "Carlos."

He laughed more loudly, rolling onto the bed again but dragging Cecil onto his back once more, curling close. He was in an impossibly good mood. He just wished he could show Cecil how happy he was to be here, with him, no secrets.

Cecil rolled his head to look at him, glancing up at the red numbered clock Carlos kept as an alarm (when it worked). "It's six-thirty. Why on Earth are you awake?" he grumbled, rolling the rest of his body so he could share the covers and hug Carlos properly.

"I thought it was Monday," he admitted sheepishly, nuzzling Cecil softly as he freed his hand to trace over Cecil's chest. Cecil slept shirtless and complained of the cold. Carlos didn't mind it though, as he usually slept in sweats to combat the closeness of their bodies. He rather liked getting to see his boyfriend, tracing over the untrained muscles that were really only visible because Cecil had minimal body fat to obscure it. Cecil realized what he was doing and stretched out, shutting his eyes to enjoy the feeling as Carlos mentally dissected him.

"I wish I could do this to you," he admitted after a couple of minutes, peeking at Carlos and smiling at his flustered look. "I'm not going to force you, but I can wish, can't I?"

"I-I guess." Carlos felt taken aback, but it quickly changed to shyness and he moved to hide his face where Cecil certainly couldn't see it, underneath Cecil's own chin. "I can't say I haven't thought about it too," he admitted shyly. "Do you…do you really want to?"

He felt a tugging on his hair. It took him a moment to realize Cecil was trying to kiss his hair but he was struggling to move his head at all. "I do, I really do Carlos." There was a moment of silence that stretched an eternity before he remembered to add, "When you're ready."

Carlos smiled. Cecil didn't totally understand, and he sometimes messed up, but it was okay because he was trying, so very hard, to do everything right. Still feeling embarrassed and shy, he pulled away to kiss Cecil very lightly, making a face when he tasted his own hair and pulling his hair back into the rubberband around his wrist. "I want to try," he finally whispered, finding one of Cecil's hands and slipping it up under his shirt, just on his side.

Cecil was frozen for a moment, obviously trying to decide what the best movement would be. Carlos worried that he had made the wrong move himself and maybe Cecil had just been saying those things to be nice. He was about to pull away, his chest starting to ache more for not discernable reason, when Cecil moved his hand down, across his stomach. The motion made Carlos freeze and his face went hot again when a soft noise escaped his lips. Cecil's hand froze again, and he leaned closer to Carlos.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concern heavy in his voice. Carlos opened his eyes slowly, meeting Cecil's briefly before he lifted his head, looking at the shirt disappearing up his shirt.

"I-I am, I just…it's been a long, long time." He met Cecil's eyes again and gave a small, nervous smile.

"Me too," Cecil said, brightly, going to kiss him again, but Carlos shook his head, placing a finger over his lips.

"I mean, it's been a long time since anyone's touched me." Sure, there were hugs and kissing and hands wandering where they shouldn't when they laid together on the couch trying to ignore Cecil's erection and Trish's annoying habit of "forgetting" what personal space was, but that was different, and Cecil knew it. "I could…take my shirt off, but…" He squirmed a bit, wanting to get rid of the cloth barrier that trapped Cecil's hand into place but not wanting Cecil to stare. Age was not kind on people, and binding and testosterone and estrogen blockers did not help.

And there was the whole body dysphoria thing. That never left.

"I've got an idea." Cecil sat up, visibly not self-conscious of Carlos staring at him, pushing the comforter out until it was roughly spread over the bed again. He pulled it up to Carlos's shoulders, smiling. "This way you can take off your shirt, if you want, but I can't see. If you don't want me to. I mean…is that the right thing to do?" he asked, shifting uncomfortably as he second-guessed himself.

Carlos sat up slowly, feeling a bit flushed again, thinking again that Cecil cared so much about him. He crawled into Cecil's lap, shushing him with a hand over his mouth as he just stared at him for a moment, thinking. Could he do this? Yes, he could. The hand that wasn't keeping Cecil quiet went to the hem of his own shirt, and he lifted it, pulling his hand away so he could pull the shirt off proper.

Cecil's eyes widened and he peeked down before catching himself and looking up at Carlos's face again. Carlos took his hands and pressed them to his waist, sighing and shivering a bit. Cecil was right; his bedroom was cold.

"Aren't you going to keep me warm?" He watched Cecil's shock turn from embarrassment to a smile he couldn't quite understand but thought that maybe it was love. And then Cecil was pushing him into the comforter and kissing him, and his hands were brushing ever so lightly over his skin. Carlos kept his hands away from his breasts proper, trying not to giggle as Cecil traced his collarbones instead.

It was soft and fumbling, and neither of them lost their boxers (or in Carlos's case, his sweatpants). But it was comforting to be able to press his bare back to Cecil's chest and have Cecil's arms draped over his shoulders when they decided to try and sleep again, and think to himself that he was a man and Cecil really truly didn't care about a couple of clumps of fatty tissue attached to his chest.


End file.
